


Food (and) Fights

by LaLainaJ



Series: Make Some Noise [53]
Category: The Vampire Diaries (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Banter, Chef!Klaus, F/M, First Kiss, Restaurants, Restaurateur!Caroline, Teasing, Workplace Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-11
Updated: 2016-04-11
Packaged: 2018-06-03 02:13:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,847
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6592510
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LaLainaJ/pseuds/LaLainaJ
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Caroline and Klaus' working relationship is contentious - but fruitful. Their personal relationship a tentative flirtation. But Klaus puts on the brakes abruptly, and Caroline is mystified. She vows to get to the bottom of why by any means necessary. Even if it means being a little sneaky.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Day One of klarolineauweek. AU: All Human.

**Food (and) Fights**

**(Prompt:** **Klaus is a chef and Caroline is his sous chef or a waitress (you pick!) who doesn't put up with his Gordan Ramsay behavior. He loves that, of course, because everyone else is too scared to stand up to him. Rated T.)**

She looks away from Klaus as she lifts the fork to her mouth. It smells amazing, her mouth is watering, and she already knows that it's going to be hard to act neutral, to resist the urge to slouch down and make obscene noises of enjoyment (that are probably inappropriate for the kitchen) once she's tasted the bite of food. To restrain the urge to immediately dive back in for another.

Klaus Mikaelson might be an arrogant douche (most of the time), but his food is _heavenly_. And he knows it.

The beef practically melts on her tongue, the sauce rich and pleasantly spicy. Her eyes close, just for a second, as she savors it.

Ugh, so much for playing it cool.

She opens her eyes to find him staring at her, as he always does during these meetings. There's an intensity to him, like watching her eat is the highlight of his day. The expression's there, even though he's been colder, more distant than usual today. It's a relief even as it makes Caroline more determined to find out why.

Because if she's being completely honest, testing the specials Klaus prepares weekly, spending time with him while he does it, is usually the highlight of _her_ day. It's been kind of a struggle to wrap her head around. Because Caroline is technically his boss. And that means she needs to be professional, damn it. But it gets harder and harder all the time. Right now with Klaus less than a foot away from her, his eyes dark and focused on her mouth it's almost impossible.

She wants to set the dish aside and reach for him. Slide her fingers through the curls at the back of his head and pull him into her, until he settles between her thighs and she can finally feel him pressed against her.

She's watched his hands an awful lot since she'd met him. Precise chopping, delicate plating, twirling a pencil as he'd sketched an idea for a layout change for her. They're always mesmerizing.

Caroline has long since admitted, at least privately, that she wants to know what they'd feel like on her skin.

She'd thought Klaus wanted that too, was working on convincing herself to take the leap. And then today had happened.

It's made Caroline wonder if she might be too late.

* * *

She'd met Klaus by happenstance, at the exact perfect time.

She'd weathered all sorts of snide remarks about how she had no business 'playing around' with her dad's restaurant when she'd first started making changes. A lot of condescending, "That's cute, sweetheart, but…" followed by a lecture about how the industry _really_ worked. Caroline had ignored all of those idiots, plowed ahead with her plan to rebrand William's. And she'd be lying if she wasn't immensely satisfied at having proved everyone who'd doubted her wrong, as profits had steadily ticked up in the last two years.

She was even eying the vacant property next door, dreams of expanding more possible than ever.

But Caroline had to give credit where credit was due. She'd first tasted Klaus' insanely good food at a pop up restaurant in London. And she'd known immediately, as soon as she'd finished that first app (pork belly and cranberry sauce on a toasted baguette), that she _had_ to have him. His style was exactly her vision - the perfect mix of traditional and trendy.

He'd proven elusive, in the beginning.

Oh, he'd been interested in _Caroline_ , and what was under her low cut little black dress, his eyes raking over her when she'd gone to introduce herself. But he'd been in the middle of a service, barking orders at a handful of line cooks, so she hadn't been offended when he'd murmured his thanks for the compliments and offered to buy her a drink afterwards.

She _had_ been offended however, when he'd seemed amused by her attempts to talk business once they'd been settled into a booth at a nearby pub. He'd been all arched brows and disbelief, "You're trying to recruit me? I've got to be honest, love. That's not what I was expecting."

Caroline had snorted, "What? Did you think I was a groupie? That I was going to drop my panties because you're talented? Please. I've been around chefs, and chef wannabes, my entire life. You're hot but I know better. I did my research, during service. You're a legacy, your father runs half a dozen acclaimed restaurants in four countries. But you dropped out of culinary school for some mysterious reason. Have never run your own kitchen. And there's no way you don't want to. I can _give_ you that."

He'd been quiet, sipped on the bourbon he'd ordered, and she'd thought she'd seen a tiny flicker of interest in his expression. Quickly masked, but she was certain she hadn't imagined it. "Why don't you tell me your name?" he'd suggested.

It had been an opening, a tiny one. But that's all Caroline had needed.

She'd introduced herself, told him about the restaurant that had been in her family for sixty years. And her plans for revitalizing it, turning the too-traditional steakhouse into something more, something that would draw a younger crowd. Foodies, and tourists, instead of the aging regulars her father had always catered to.

She'd known exactly when she'd hooked him, had seen the gleam in his eye when she'd offered a certain amount of creative control. One he wasn't likely to get, as an untried chef, in another operation. But he'd played it cool and agreed to fly out and tour the kitchen. To look at her business plan in depth.

He'd shown up a few weeks later and Caroline had pulled out all the stops to woo him. Including a tiny bit of flirting, because Caroline fully believed in utilizing _every_ asset she'd been blessed with.

And it had worked.

Klaus had signed a six month contract, and together they'd revamped the menu. She'd even consulted him in the minor renovations she'd done – nothing crazy, because money had been tight at that time. But the place had kind of an old man hunting lodge vibe that _had_ to go. A couple more lights, ripping out the carpets, changing up the art – the bare minimum that was necessary, to make the new concept work.

They'd clashed, in the beginning. Often and loudly. Had screaming fights when the place was closed, icy silences and whispered arguments when it was filled with people. He could be harsh, demanding with the kitchen staff, some of whom Caroline had known since she was small. She'd gritted her teeth, and let him run things as he'd seen fit (because she had _promised_ ) but the first time he'd tried to bark orders at her front of house people she'd nipped _that_ in the bud.

Menu planning could sometimes be all out war. Specials flipped weekly, never to be repeated. Something to lure people back. Klaus favored trendy ingredients and sometimes Caroline had to put her foot down. Either they were too out there, a risk of alienating their core client base, or they were too expensive and would have blown their target price point.

Klaus was stubborn but Caroline could hold her ground. And she'd felt like he'd respected her more each time she won a skirmish.

They'd gotten better at compromising somewhere along the way. Learned to work together. They still fought, always would. But she rarely had the urge to throw things at his stupidly attractive face anymore. Caroline had been insanely nervous that he'd up and leave when his contract was up. But he'd signed another without hesitation.

And business had only gotten better since then.

The restaurant didn't do lunch service Monday through Wednesday and Caroline usually came in early on Monday, since it was so quiet, to work in peace.

Until Klaus had decided that Monday would be tasting day. It was technically his day off, but he insisted that it worked best for him. He usually showed up mid-morning, his thicker than usual scruff making Caroline's palms itch to know what it would feel like.

He'd pop his head into her office to say hi, would throw himself into one of her guest chairs and proceed to be very distracting. He was excellent at coaxing her away from her spreadsheets, getting her talking about her (admittedly limited, at the moment) like outside the restaurant.

She'd eventually pull herself together and shoo him away, and he'd go with a smirk and a promise that he'd prepare lunch.

She'd wander down to eat, at the appointed time. And they'd bicker until they agreed on the next week's specials. It was their routine, one she'd come to genuinely enjoy.

Today had been a little different, and it made Caroline nervous. Klaus had texted her instead of coming up to her office. The text itself was blunt, "In the kitchen. Be here at 1." She'd been confused, had stared dumbly down at her phone, wondering if she should text him back, or go down and investigate. See if something was wrong.

She'd decided against either course of action, rationalizing that maybe he'd just had something involved planned out for the test specials, and no time for idle chit chat. But her mind had stayed half on him, and half on her to do list. She hadn't managed to get much done.

Finally, throwing her pen down in exasperation, accepting that work was just not happening, Caroline had gotten up from her desk. Grumbled under her breath about how only _Klaus_ could mess with her when he wasn't even in the room. There was a full length mirror on the back of her office door, and she'd taken a second to shake out her hair and smooth out her sundress (telling herself that no, it didn't mean anything that, pre-Klaus, she did Monday paperwork in yoga pants with her face free of makeup).

She'd been nervous about going to see Klaus and she'd _hated_ it.

Caroline had breezed into the kitchen, forcing a casual demeanour while calling out a greeting. Klaus had grunted something unintelligible, not bothering to turn away from the pot he was stirring on the range.

And yeah, that had pretty much confirmed that he was pissed about something. Caroline had plowed ahead, lifted herself up on a prep counter. She'd kept her eyes on his back, intent on waiting him out.

She'd done it before when Klaus took to brooding. She could easily do it again.

* * *

Twenty minutes later, Klaus is proving stubborn. She takes another bite of braised short rib, watches a brief, pleased look cross his features. She loves the dish, knows it'll sell well. But an idea hits her, a way to shove Klaus into talking to her. He could be annoyingly tight lipped. _Unless_ she pissed him off. And there were few buttons more effective then questioning his food. To that end Caroline wrinkles her nose, just a little, pokes at the food on her plate. Speaks hesitantly, "It's... fine, I guess."

Klaus, temperamental artiste that he is, bristles immediately. "Fine?" he repeats, incredulous. "I beg your pardon?"

Caroline lifts one shoulder, crosses her legs. "Could use a little salt, maybe? And it's kinda similar to the flank with chimichurri you did a couple weeks ago."

Now he looks insulted, "It most certainly is not," Klaus spits, his outrage thinly veiled. "That spice blend is decidedly Asian, _thank you_."

She blinks at him, her very best innocent expression pasted on, "I'm not saying it's _bad_ , Klaus. Just a little… eh."

His jaw drops. "Eh?" he parrots, tone pitching high in his irritation. He stiffens and stalks closer, shoulders rigid. "Are you getting sick? That's the only possible explanation I can think of for how _wrong_ you are. Perhaps you caught something from that gentleman that was all over you on Saturday night? He did look a bit _unwashed_."

Caroline drops the act, confused at the abrupt shift. "What?" she asks, genuinely having no idea what he's talking about. "What guy? I went out with Kat after we closed. Had a drink and went home to bed. Not that it's any of _your_ business."

His face falls, the anger cooling rapidly leaving nothing but a blankness that makes Caroline wish for it back. "Yes," he says softly with a hint of bitterness. "You've made that _perfectly_ clear."

She reaches out, grabs a handful of his shirt, before he can step away. She's more certain than ever that she needs to fix this. Immediately. "Wait, Klaus. Don't."

"Don't what, Caroline?" He runs a frustrated hand through his hair, "Don't cut my losses? Don't accept that you're never going to give me a chance? I've come to love this place, sweetheart. You don't have to worry about me leaving it. No need to dangle yourself in front of me any longer."

She rears back, stung. But she doesn't release her hold on him. " _Excuse_ me?"

"Isn't that what you've been doing? I've made my interest perfectly clear. You flirt, but you hold yourself back. And I understood, because you've been busy, and wary of what people would think. So I waited. But from what I saw on Saturday you're not too busy to start something, you're just not interested in starting anything with _me_."

She's still confused, "What is it that you think you saw?"

Klaus rolls his eyes, lets out an exasperated sigh, "He was quite literally in your lap, Caroline."

It clicks. She and Kat had gone to a bar across the street, had run into an old friend. She hadn't seen Klaus there, but it was kind of a regular hangout for the restaurant staff so she's not surprised that he was. "Enzo? You're talking about Enzo? Jesus, Klaus he used to be a host here. Worked his way through school. He's my friend and he was drunk. That's it. I called his _girlfriend_ to come pick him up."

Klaus stills, and looks more embarrassed then she's ever seen him. Caroline wouldn't have thought it possible, as self-assured as he always seemed to be. He glances down, and then back at her. Winces when he sees the look on her face. She hadn't forgotten the not so nice accusation he'd thrown, and she wasn't going to let it go.

He reaches out slowly, watching her face to gauge her reaction. Klaus rests his hands on her knees when she doesn't swat him away. She lets go of his shirt, lifts an expectant brow.

"I think I may owe you an apology," he begins sheepishly.

"You think?" Caroline asks sharply.

"Alright, fine. I'm sorry, love. I shouldn't have jumped to conclusions. But you've been dodging me for ages. I was beginning to think there had to be a reason."

"Uh, yeah. I've had way too many old guys try to pat me on the head and tell me that my plans are adorable, but never going to work. That little 'ol me shouldn't try to play with the big boys. What do you think they're going to say when they find out I'm sleeping with my head chef?"

Klaus contrite expression gives way to a smirk, his eyes lighting up as his hands drift up higher on her thighs, "So you do plan on sleeping with me then? Good to know."

She glares at him, but she's fighting a smile, her hands landing on his shoulders. She can't resist one last dig, "Pretty arrogant for a guy who sucks at seasoning."

Instead of replying he tugs on her thighs, pulling her to the edge of the counter. He slants his mouth over hers, licking past her lips and stroking his tongue over hers in a way that has her arching into him and wrapping her legs around his hips. She gets her hands in his hair, tugging his head to the side and sending a moan rumbling through him.

She kisses him until she's breathless, tearing away from him and sucking in a gasp when she needs air. Klaus' mouth drops to her throat, his teeth scraping a sensitive spot that leaves her panting. He nudges the strap of her dress aside, lips dragging over her shoulder. Caroline hates to stop him, but she has to. Stupid professionalism. "I'm totally not sleeping with you in this kitchen, Klaus. That's such a health code violation."

He laughs, and she feels it against her skin. "Someone's getting a bit ahead of herself. Perhaps I want to be wooed," he murmurs teasingly, pulling back to look at her.

His thumbs are stroking her inner thighs, under her skirt, and it takes her a second to focus on his question. She pushes him away slightly, "You are so full of it. If I asked you to take me to my office, lock the door, and do very dirty things to me, would you really say no?"

Klaus' eyes widen, growing hot, "Far be it for me to refuse a lady's wants."

Caroline grins, shifts off the counter, and relishes the curse he grits out as her body slides down the length of his. She slips her hands up his shirt, strokes over the taut muscles of his abdomen. "Tempting, but the prep cooks will be here in forty-five minutes. And I'm going to need more time if said dirty things are going to be worth my while."

She scrapes her nails over his skin, watches his lashes lower in response. He swallows hard, hands coming to rest on her waist when he asks his next question, "Can I take you out later?"

Caroline bites her lip, pretends to think about it, just to make him squirm, "Yes. We'll get a drink, and if you're charming enough…" she trails off suggestively, tracing a fingertip along the line of his belt.

"I'm very charming, love. Trust me. And very interested in making things worth your _while_."

Caroline's glad to hear it, pulls him in for one more quick kiss. He's reluctant to let her go, but she turns to leave. She can't resist getting the last word, tossing one last taunt over her shoulder, "I guess it's a good thing neither of us has to work early tomorrow, isn't it?"

His pained groan keeps her smiling for hours.


	2. Part Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Caroline's sick and determined to ignore it. Klaus has different ideas.

**Food (And) Fights (Part Two)**

**(Prompt: "a part 2 for your "Klaus and Caroline own a restaurant" AU where Klaus makes Caroline soup because she's." A Sequel to the second drabble in Chapter 39. Rated T).**

Klaus is careful to keep his steps quiet, takes pains to avoid the creaky spots in the floor. He's learned the hallway to Caroline's office well in the last two years and he has a sneaking suspicion that she's hiding there this morning for a reason.

It's a Thursday, one of their busiest evenings of the week. Their reservation list is full and service starts in a few hours. Klaus hasn't seen Caroline yet which is something of a first. Her assistant, April, had popped into the kitchen to check on things periodically. Klaus had never thought much of the timid mouse of a girl – she tended to avoid him – but he'd been reluctantly impressed by her stealth. He'd only ever noticed her as she was slipping out the door, if he'd know she was there at all.

It was almost as if she was purposefully staying below his radar.

Klaus was fairly certain he knew why.

He'd spent the previous evening at Caroline's. She'd fallen asleep on the couch far earlier than she usually did. When he'd carried her to bed she'd seemed warm and he hadn't been able to resist laying a hand on her forehead to check if she was feverish. That had awoken her and she'd managed to pry her eyes open enough to glare up at him, bat his hand away, and mutter something he hadn't been able to decipher (though the prickly tone had been unmistakable) when she'd rolled away to bury herself in her pillow. Klaus had retreated to the living room, finished his wine and scratched out some menu ideas until he'd been tired enough to sleep.

Sleep had turned out to be elusive, his bed partner restless and throwing off an insane amount of heat. Klaus had been kicked more than once, and Caroline's breathing had grown audible as the night wore on, becoming hoarse scratch as she tossed fitfully.

He'd readied himself to fight a battle in the morning. Caroline had never taken a sick or personal day in the two plus years he'd known her, too much of a control freak to let a little thing like mere illness stop her from running the restaurant. Getting her to take regular days off was enough of a challenge and Klaus often resorts to blackmail and bribery (though, to be fair, he benefitted from those arrangements enormously) to push Caroline into a little rest and relaxation. Convincing her to stay home and recuperate was going to be a challenge, Klaus had known, even though she was quite obviously taking ill.

Unfortunately his mental preparations had been for naught.

When he'd awoken he'd found the bed empty, a note from Caroline in the kitchen saying she'd gone in early to get a start on the day.

A tactical retreat.

It was also a sign that she knew her position was weak and Klaus decided he just needed to pick his moment. He'd gone through his usual routine, made a pit stop at the market on his way to the restaurant, and headed directly to the kitchen instead of barging into Caroline's office.

Caroline would relax, let her guard down, and think she'd won. Klaus barked a few orders but was content to let the prep cooks handle things while he set up his own station with the ingredients he'd bought, and got to work.

A few people had flitted in to ask him if Caroline was all right, Marcel, who ran the bar mentioned that she'd actually cancelled a meeting with a vendor, a sure sign that her mind over matter approach only went so far, while Caroline's good friend Bonnie had popped in the vent her frustrations about Caroline's stubbornness, and told Klaus he'd better have a plan to get her to go home.

It was possibly the most cordial she'd ever been to him, despite the fact that he and Caroline had passed a year together awhile back, and Klaus had strenuously resisted the urge to comment and ruin it, had merely gestured to the chopped veg on his board, the chicken stock building on the stove, and assured her he'd take care of it.

The things he did for Caroline Forbes.

Once the soup was finished – chicken noodle with a few embellishments, no need to mess with the classics – he'd packed it up in a To Go container, along with a loaf of fresh baked bread, and headed to Caroline's office.

He pauses just outside the door, straining his ears. It's cracked a bit and he can hear her moving around. His timing is fortuitous and Caroline's soon letting out deep, hacking coughs, gritting out, "Nope, no. I refuse," once she's done.

Klaus nudges the door wider with his foot, "Talking to yourself is not a good sign, love. A sign of insanity, is it not?"

Caroline's wide eyed when she glances up, and Klaus notes the shadows and redness marring their usual bright blue unhappily. Her office is warm but she's wearing one of his sweaters, a thick wool thing, and he's fairly certain she's got several layers additional layers of her own on underneath. She clears her throat, attempts a smile, "Hey. How's prep going?"

"Perfect, as always. How's trying to pretend you're not sick and miserable going?"

He can tell she considers arguing, mouth thinning. But a shudder wracks her frame, a violent sneeze tearing out of her and her eyes water as she reaches for a tissue. Klaus sighs and enters the room fully, closing the door behind him while watching Caroline expectantly. She deflates slightly, leaning back in her chair and tossing her pen aside. She rubs her temple with the heel of her hand, "Ugh, my head is killing me. But we have that magazine profile scheduled next week and…"

"Not until Wednesday, plenty of time," Klaus points out, cutting her off. He sets the bag he'd brought on her desk, circling it to come up behind her. He lifts her hair, laying a hand on her neck, finding it sweat damp and hot to the touch. She leans into him with a sigh, "Mmm, your hands feel nice. Cold."

"They're not. You're just feverish."

"Fevers are for losers," Caroline mumbles.

He huffs out a laugh, leaning forward to press a kiss to the crown of her head as he pulls her chair out from her desk. "Fevers are merely a sign that you need to slow down. It's not going to go away if you ignore it, Caroline."

She's still reluctant, her movements sluggish as he urges her to her feet, "What, did you get a medical degree, Dr. Klaus?"

"Do you want to go to a doctor?" Klaus asks reasonably. "Because I'd be delighted to take you and have the opportunity to say I told you so when he tells you to take a few days for recovery."

That would irritate Caroline like few other things.

She makes a soft noise, half grumble half growl, and turns to face him. "One day. Tops. I can't miss a weekend."

Klaus refrains from arguing that she very well could – her staff was excellent, well trained and more than capable of handling things without Caroline's direct supervision for a bit – knowing that it would only get her back up and he rather thought he was winning at the moment. No need to spoil it.

He retrieves her coat, holds it open and assists her in shrugging it on. He tips her chin up to look into her eyes, "I made soup, it should help. Drink some tea too, will you? Josh is going to run you home since I'm sure me leaving now will only make you worry more even though I'd be back in plenty of time for service."

Caroline's blinking up at him, warmth and something like shock softening her gaze, "You made me soup?"

He's unsure why that's giving her pause, "I make you food all the time."

"Yeah, because you kinda get off on watching me eat it, Chef Perv."

It's said with a tiny smirk and Klaus can't deny it. "You make the most delightful noises, sweetheart."

"Which you'll miss when I eat your soup. Though I'm a gross sweaty mess and probably not all that tempting."

He rolls his eyes, "You're not a mess. The farthest thing from gross. Just a bit worn around the edges. The soup will help and that knowledge is more than enough for me."

She wraps her arms around his waist, cuddling close and resting her forehead against his shoulder. "Thank you," she mumbles, pressing a chaste kiss just above his collar before she straightens. Seemingly resigned for now, she sighs and glances around her office, "You'll call me if anything explodes? And fill me in on all the non-life or death things later?"

"Tomorrow," Klaus says firmly. "Because you'll be asleep when I get to your place."

"You don't usually stay over on Thursdays," Caroline says, sounding puzzled.

Slightly exasperated Klaus shakes his head, "I do when you're sick."

She studies him for a long moment, Klaus doesn't try to hide his concern. Finally she nods, "Okay, then. I'll see you later."

"You will. Eat the soup. Drink…"

"Some tea," Caroline finishes with a teasing smile. "I know you think it cures everything, as long as it's the right tea and not my weird tea. What was it you called the last box I bought? Fruity garbage, I believe."

It's something they bicker over frequently and Klaus lets her tease him, gently ushering her out of her office and towards the door that will lead them to the small parking lot at the back of the restaurant. Josh is waiting, ready to go as Klaus had asked. Klaus sees Caroline shiver and opens the door of the car for her. "In," he tells her, ignoring her annoyed sigh. "Text me when you get home, yeah?"

"I thought I was the worry wort in this relationship," Caroline grumbles, bucking herself in. "You're supposed to be Mr. Cool and Laconic Moody Pants."

Klaus doesn't take the bait, knowing that bickering will only delay her departure and the sooner Caroline's comfortable in her flat the better.

He won't deny her little peevishness, not when he'd won.


End file.
